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    Shadowings
    Shadowings
    Shadowings
    Ebook209 pages3 hours

    Shadowings

    By Lafcadio Hearn

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    About this ebook

    Many of the earliest books, particularly those dating back to the 1900s and before, are now extremely scarce and increasingly expensive. We are republishing these classic works in affordable, high quality, modern editions, using the original text and artwork.
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherRead Books Ltd.
    Release dateMay 20, 2015
    ISBN9781473374430
    Shadowings
    Author

    Lafcadio Hearn

    Lafcadio Hearn, also called Koizumi Yakumo, was best known for his books about Japan. He wrote several collections of Japanese legends and ghost stories, including Kwaidan: Stories and Studies of Strange Things.

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      Book preview

      Shadowings - Lafcadio Hearn

      SHADOWINGS

      By

      LAFCADIO HEARN

      LECTURER ON ENGLISH LITERATURE IN

      THE IMPERIAL UNIVERSITY, TŌKYŌ, JAPAN

      ***

      AUTHOR OF EXOTICS AND RETROSPECTIVES,

      IN GHOSTLY JAPAN, ETC., ETC.

      ***

      Copyright © 2013 Read Books Ltd.

      This book is copyright and may not be

      reproduced or copied in any way without

      the express permission of the publisher in writing

      British Library Cataloguing-in-Publication Data

      A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

      Contents

      Lafcadio Hearn

      STORIES FROM STRANGE BOOKS:

      A Legend of Fugen-Bosatsu

      The Screen-Maiden

      The Corpse-Rider

      The Sympathy of Benten

      The Gratitude of the Samébito

      JAPANESE STUDIES

      Sémi

      Sémi

      Japanese Female Names

      Old Japanese Songs

      Fantasies

      Noctilucæ

      A Mystery of Crowds

      Gothic Horror

      Levitation

      Nightmare-Touch

      Readings from a Dream-book

      In a Pair of Eyes

      Lafcadio Hearn

      Patrick Lafcadio Hearn was born in Lefkada, Greece in 1850. He was baptized in the Greek Orthodox Church, but in his infancy, his family relocated to Dublin, Ireland, where Hearn attended the Roman Catholic Ushaw College. Neither of these religious faiths stuck, however, and when he was nineteen Hearn went to the United States, where he began to work in journalism. He gained employment as a reporter for the Cincinnati Daily Enquirer in 1872, and became known as an investigative yet sensational journalist.

      In 1877, Hearn left Cincinnati for New Orleans, where he remained for almost a decade. His writings about the city’s unique cultural life, especially its Creole population and distinctive cuisine, were published in magazines such as Harper’s Weekly and Scribner’s Magazine. His best-known New Orleans works are Gombo Zhèbes, Little Dictionary of Creole Proverbs in Six Dialects (1885), La Cuisine Créole (1885), and Chita: A Memory of Last Island, a novella first published in Harper’s Monthly in 1888. Over the decade, Hearn became a much-loved chronicler of the city; today, more books have been written about him than any former resident of New Orleans other than Louis Armstrong.

      Between 1887 and 1890, Hearn worked as a correspondent in the West Indies, before settling in Japan, a country that would provide his greatest inspiration. At a time when Japan was largely unknown to Westerners, Hearn became world-famous for his writings on the country. His book Glimpses of Unfamiliar Japan (1894) was hugely popular, and in 1896 he began teaching English literature at Tokyo Imperial University. Hearn penned three more books concerned with Japan and Japanese culture. Amongst the best-remembered of these are his collections of Japanese ghost stories and legends, such as Japanese Fairy Tales (1898) and Kwaidan: Stories and Studies of Strange Things (1903). Kearn died in Tokyo, Japan in 1904, aged 54. His grave is at the Zōshigaya Cemetery in Toshima, Tokyo.

      STORIES FROM STRANGE BOOKS:

      The Reconciliation

      THERE was a young Samurai of Kyōto who had been reduced to poverty by the ruin of his lord, and found himself obliged to leave his home, and to take service with the Governor of a distant province. Before quitting the capital, this Samurai divorced his wife,—a good and beautiful woman,—under the belief that he could better obtain promotion by another alliance. He then married the daughter of a family of some distinction, and took her with him to the district whither he had been called.

      ***

      But it was in the time of the thoughtlessness of youth, and the sharp experience of want, that the Samurai could not understand the worth of the affection so lightly cast away. His second marriage did not prove a happy one; the character of his new wife was hard and selfish; and he soon found every cause to think with regret of Kyōto days. Then he discovered that he still loved his first wife—loved her more than he could ever love the second; and he began to feel how unjust and how thankless he had been. Gradually his repentance deepened into a remorse that left him no peace of mind. Memories of the woman he had wronged—her gentle speech, her smiles, her dainty, pretty ways, her faultless patience—continually haunted him. Sometimes in dreams he saw her at her loom, weaving as when she toiled night and day to help him during the years of their distress: more often he saw her kneeling alone in the desolate little room where he had left her, veiling her tears with her poor worn sleeve. Even in the hours of official duty, his thoughts would wander back to her: then he would ask himself how she was living, what she was doing. Something in his heart assured him that she could not accept another husband, and that she never would refuse to pardon him. And he secretly resolved to seek her out as soon as he could return to Kyōto,—then to beg her forgiveness, to take her back, to do everything that a man could do to make atonement. But the years went by.

      At last the Governor’s official term expired, and the Samurai was free. Now I will go back to my dear one, he vowed to himself. Ah, what a cruelty,—what a folly to have divorced her! He sent his second wife to her own people (she had given him no children); and hurrying to Kyōto, he went at once to seek his former companion,—not allowing himself even the time to change his travelling-garb.

      ***

      When he reached the street where she used to live, it was late in the night,—the night of the tenth day of the ninth month;—and the city was silent as a cemetery. But a bright moon made everything visible; and he found the house without difficulty. It had a deserted look: tall weeds were growing on the roof. He knocked at the sliding-doors, and no one answered. Then, finding that the doors had not been fastened from within, he pushed them open, and entered. The front room was matless and empty: a chilly wind was blowing through crevices in the planking; and the moon shone through a ragged break in the wall of the alcove. Other rooms presented a like forlorn condition. The house, to all seeming, was unoccupied. Nevertheless, the Samurai determined to visit one other apartment at the further end of the dwelling,—a very small room that had been his wife’s favorite resting-place. Approaching the sliding-screen that closed it, he was startled to perceive a glow within. He pushed the screen aside, and uttered a cry of joy; for he saw her there,—sewing by the light of a paper-lamp. Her eyes at the same instant met his own; and with a happy smile she greeted him,—asking only:—When did you come back to Kyōto? How did you find your way here to me, through all those black rooms? The years had not changed her. Still she seemed as fair and young as in his fondest memory of her;—but sweeter than any memory there came to him the music of her voice, with its trembling of pleased wonder.

      Then joyfully he took his place beside her, and told her all:—how deeply he repented his selfishness,—how wretched he had been without her,—how constantly he had regretted her,—how long he had hoped and planned to make amends;—caressing her the while, and asking her forgiveness over and over again. She answered him, with loving gentleness, according to his heart’s desire,—entreating him to cease all self-reproach. It was wrong, she said, that he should have allowed himself to suffer on her account: she had always felt that she was not worthy to be his wife. She knew that he had separated from her, notwithstanding, only because of poverty; and while he lived with her, he had always been kind; and she had never ceased to pray for his happiness. But even if there had been a reason for speaking of amends, this honorable visit would be ample amends;—what greater happiness than thus to see him again, though it were only for a moment? Only for a moment! he answered, with a glad laugh,—say, rather, for the time of seven existences! My loved one, unless you forbid, I am coming back to live with you always—always—always! Nothing shall ever separate us again. Now I have means and friends: we need not fear poverty. To-morrow my goods will be brought here; and my servants will come to wait upon you; and we shall make this house beautiful.... To-night, he added, apologetically, I came thus late—without even changing my dress—only because of the longing I had to see you, and to tell you this. She seemed greatly pleased by these words; and in her turn she told him about all that had happened in Kyōto since the time of his departure,—excepting her own sorrows, of which she sweetly refused to speak. They chatted far into the night: then she conducted him to a warmer room, facing south,—a room that had been their bridal chamber in former time. Have you no one in the house to help you? he asked, as she began to prepare the couch for him. No, she answered, laughing cheerfully: I could not afford a servant;—so I have been living all alone. You will have plenty of servants to-morrow, he said,—good servants,—and everything else that you need. They lay down to rest,—not to sleep: they had too much to tell each other;—and they talked of the past and the present and the future, until the dawn was grey. Then, involuntarily, the Samurai closed his eyes, and slept.

      ***

      When he awoke, the daylight was streaming through the chinks of the sliding-shutters; and he found himself, to his utter amazement, lying upon the naked boards of a mouldering floor.... Had he only dreamed a dream? No: she was there;—she slept.... He bent above her,—and looked,—and shrieked;—for the sleeper had no face!... Before him, wrapped in its grave-sheet only, lay the corpse of a woman,—a corpse so wasted that little remained save the bones, and the long black tangled hair.

      ***

      Slowly,—as he stood shuddering and sickening in the sun,—the icy horror yielded to a despair so intolerable, a pain so atrocious, that he clutched at the mocking shadow of a doubt. Feigning ignorance of the neighborhood, he ventured to ask his way to the house in which his wife had lived.

      There is no one in that house, said the person questioned. It used to belong to the wife of a Samurai who left the city several years ago. He divorced her in order to marry another woman before he went away; and she fretted a great deal, and so became sick. She had no relatives in Kyōto, and nobody to care for her; and she died in the autumn of the same year,—on the tenth day of the ninth month....

      ***

      A Legend of Fugen-Bosatsu

      From the old story-book, Jikkun-shō

      ***

      THERE was once a very pious and learned priest, called Shōku Shōnin, who lived in the province of Harima. For many years he meditated daily upon the chapter of Fugen-Bosatsu [the Bodhisattva Samantabhadra] in the Sûtra of the Lotos of the Good Law; and he used to pray, every morning and evening, that he might at some time be permitted to behold Fugen-Bosatsu as a living presence, and in the form described in the holy text.[3]

      [3] The priest’s desire was probably inspired by the promises recorded in the chapter entitled The Encouragement of Samantabhadra (see Kern’s translation of the Saddharma Pundarîka in the Sacred Books of the East,—pp. 433-434):—"Then the Bodhisattva Mahâsattva Samantabhadra said to the Lord: ... ‘When a preacher who applies himself to this Dharmaparyâya shall take a walk, then, O Lord, will I mount a white elephant with six tusks, and betake myself to the place where that preacher is

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